


Working My Way Back to You

by just_another_classic



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Missing Scene, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 07:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_classic/pseuds/just_another_classic
Summary: “Does everyone just expect us to have some kind of wild monkey sex tonight?”Steve's first night back after coming back to life.





	Working My Way Back to You

**Author's Note:**

> Hellohi I'm still stuck on Brubaker-era feels, so here's flirty and emotion Staron hooking up after Steve comes back to life.

Coming back to life is a lot like waking up from the ice. 

Steve’s body feels strange, and the world around him has changed. Not as much as it had in the sixty years since the war, but enough for Steve to feel as if he’s walking on uneven ground that’s soon to give out at any moment. Tony is...well, he’s not _ gone _, but he’s incapacitated for however long it takes to come back to himself. Norman Osborn wields an absurd amount of government power. Skrulls, Steve learns the moment Dr. Richards insisted he run a test, had launched an invasion of Earth. Bucky Barnes is now Captain America, and apparently deeply in love with Natasha Romanov.

(This last development he doesn’t mind, especially when he sees the way Bucky looks at here and how Natasha carries herself with a lightness Steve hasn’t seen in years.)

Even Steve’s ‘Welcome Back’ party — a strange affair cobbled together within hours of his return — features familiar (and unfamiliar) faces wearing brand new uniforms, causing Steve to double-take to ensure he knows who is who. 

“Hey, at least you have a pretty good welcome home committee. Better than most,” Clint tells Steve before taking a long swig of his beer. It’s moments like these when Steve wishes alcohol worked for him — not because he wants to necessarily get drunk, but envies the pleasant vibes others seem to have. 

“It’s nice to see everyone.” _ It’s also overwhelming as hell, _Steve thinks, but he won’t say that aloud. There’s more than one reason he hid away on the roof at the start of the event, and it’s not because he wanted a few uninterrupted minutes with Sharon in his arms. 

“Well, yeah the party’s great. There’s nothing like a ‘Glad You’re Not Dead’ shindig — yours is better than mine, not that I’m jealous or anything — but I’m not talking about this. I’m talking about _ them _.” Clint points with his beer bottle to the corner of the room that’s been claimed by Sharon, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha. 

Steve understands instantly Clint’s meaning. Steve has only been gone a year, and his family is intact and certainly closer than before. (Another new development Steve doesn’t mind.) If it bothers Clint to see Natasha casually perched on Bucky’s lap, it doesn’t show. Perhaps his friend is too transfixed by the peal of Natasha’s laughter as Sam makes a joke that Steve can’t quite make out. Steve himself is distracted by the way Sharon hides her smile behind her glass of wine and the way her blonde hair catches light, and he wonders if there will ever be a day where the sight of her doesn’t momentarily steal his breath. _ Doubtful. _

This is what Steve keeps in mind later, long after his welcome party has died down and most everyone has left. He finds himself reclining on the sofa, fingers tangled in Sharon’s long strands of hair as she sits tucked against his side, half-listening as Natasha, Sam, and Bucky debate and discuss one thing or another. The conversation has drifted far from villains and fights, and for a moment Steve allows himself to pretend they’re all regular joes shooting the breeze after particularly raucous night. He doesn’t think he would have minded if his first night back had been like this: a quiet night in listening to his friends debate about which new restaurants he has to try or any movie from the past year he must see. At some point in the night, someone had turned on a playlist of the top hits from the previous year, though Steve had been too distracted to listen. Thankfully, catching up on one year of pop culture is far less daunting than multiple decades. 

“—and I come home, and there’s a cake literally covered in candles. It was a fire hazard.”

“Don’t complain. You enjoyed it,” Natasha pokes Bucky in the ribs, and Steve suppresses a smile as he watches his friend squirm. “Do you know how hard it was to both fit and light all of those candles on that cake? The level of precision I had to use to grant you a happy birthday.”

“You’ll have to tell me what you did, because you’re giving me ideas for this guy’s next birthday.” Sharon nudges Steve’s side, turning so that he can see her conspiratorial grin. 

Steve’s eyes narrow in mock offense. He doesn’t normally like being reminded of his age, but Sharon is smiling and everyone is laughing. That alone has him feeling ecstatic and at ease. “I’m beginning to think that you and Natasha together are a recipe for success. Or disaster, depending on who is on the opposite end of your scheming.”

“I have a feeling that’s going to be us,” Bucky interjects, pulling a face that earns him a mock slap on the shoulder from Natasha. 

“Just be glad we work for the good guys. I’m pretty sure the two of us could take over the world if we so desired,” Sharon comments, winking at Natasha who nods in assent.

This, too, is amusing for Steve. He is reminded of conversations years ago when he and Bucky had discussed just what they wanted after the war. Bucky might not be a park ranger, and Steve certainly hasn’t been a full-time artist, but this moment right now? This is what Steve had dreamed of: good friends, the love of his life in his arms. Some details are different, sure, but the meaning is still the same. 

He leans over to press a kiss to Sharon’s temple. “I don’t doubt it.”

Sam clears his throat, and moves to stand. “And to think I was just getting used to playing third wheel again. Now I’m fifth. I’m taking this as my cue to head out and hit the sack.”

“Awww, Sam, we don’t want you to go,” Sharon pleads. “We’ll be nice.”

“You can always crash here tonight. There’s plenty of room,” Steve offers as he disengages from Sharon. He instantly misses the warmth of body pressed to his side.

“Yeah, there’s absolutely no way I’m sharing a wall with any of you freaks. My place will do just fine.” Sam’s expression is nearly comical as he glances between the two couples. Steve can feel his cheeks flush at the implication. He turns to Steve and gives him a proper hug. “It’s good to have you back, man.”

“It’s good to be back.” He will have to make plans to spend some time with Sam one-on-one sometime soon. 

Sam’s departure prompts a wave of hugs and goodbyes. Natasha announces that now is as good a time as any to go to bed, and she leads Bucky away. Steve doesn’t miss the brow raise Natasha shoots Sharon, nor the middle finger his girlfriend flashes in response. 

“Does everyone just expect us to have some kind of wild monkey sex tonight?” Steve asks, rubbing behind his neck as they walk back to what had been his bedroom. 

“In some capacity, yes,” Sharon replies, humor lacing her voice. She bumps into his side, and Steve takes the opportunity to interlock their fingers. She squeezes his hand in response. “Emma Frost mentioned that she’s actually happy to be at mansion full of hormonal teenagers rather than here tonight. Apparently our feelings are loud.”

“She actually said that?” Not that he’s surprised at her bluntness. That’s particularly on brand for her. He’s more shocked that Emma Frost had even bothered to attend. They hadn’t been close. Then again, a surprising number of X-Men been hanging out in the living room. He’s touched, in a way. 

“Mmmhm. Right after she congratulated me for being both the person to kill you and bring you back. Apparently, it’s both amusing and impressive.”

There’s no disguising the undercurrent of bitterness in her voice, so Steve stops abruptly outside of the bedroom door. He moves so that he face her, even if she doesn’t meet his eyes. 

“Did anyone bother you about that? Because if they did, I’ll—” 

She cuts him off by placing a finger to his lips.

“Emma’s the only person who said anything to me. No one else.”

Steve studies her expression in an attempt to tell if she’s telling him the truth. He doubts she would tell him if anyone else said anything. Deciding the thoughts of others don’t matter, only her own, he raises a hand to cup her cheek. His heart swells when she leans into his hand and presses a kiss to his palm. 

“I don’t blame you one bit for what happened.” He’s told her this before, back when the others were inviting everyone over for the party giving him and Sharon a moment alone to breathe and decompress, but Steve feels like this is a statement that bears repeating. “I love you. Coming back and seeing you...Well, the way I see it, you saved me.”

“I think you’re the only one who sees it that way,” Sharon scoffs. Steve is about to argue further until Sharon wraps her arms around moves further into his embrace. “Regardless, I don’t want to think about you dying tonight. I’d rather focus on the whole you being alive thing.”

He relishes in the warm press of her body against his own. The feel of her breasts against his chest sends blood straight to his groin, and Steve has to take a deep breath before shifting his hands down her sides before settling on her hips. 

“You know we don’t have to do anything, right? Just because everyone expects us to, we really, really don’t,” he offers, because he feels like that is the right thing to do. There’s a certain awkwardness that comes with all of their friends expecting and joking about them fooling around. Sharon’s normally not one to give into something solely for the expectation of others, but his return could influence her decision, and he doesn’t want that. He wants her to want him because she does. Besides, it’s been a long day and he knows she has to be tired. His libido might argue otherwise, but, “I’d still be happy just holding you, if you want to rest.”

“Steve Rogers, are you seriously turning down a night of sex with me?” Her fingers curl around the hair at the nape of his neck, sending jolts of electricity down his spine.

“No, I’m just letting you know that we don’t have to succumb to peer pressure. If we felt pressured, that is.”

“God, you sound like one of those PSAs you did forever ago,” Sharon teases, but she’s laughing and that makes him grin. She stretches to the tips of her toes, lips hovering just under his. He could close the distance if he wanted, but is content to let her take the lead for a moment. “I don’t feel pressured, do you?” 

“Not in the slightest.”

It’s all lips and teeth and tongue after that, their mouths moving against one another as their fingers quest over curves and under clothes. Sharon makes a glorious sound when his hand traces the line of her spine, and God, does he want to hear that again. Selfishly, he thinks this would have made for the perfect evening, just him and her under the blanket of night, skin-to-skin. But he has the rest of the night for that.

After all, everyone expects it.

He presses her back against the wall just as he begins to trial open mouthed kisses down her neck. So much might have changed over the past year, but this? He could map her body with his eyes closed. Over the course of their tumultuous relationship, he’s learned just how to make her sigh, the spots where she prefers teeth over to tongue, and he’s created constellations from the marks on her skin.

Sharon’s nails trace over his abdomen and he gasps. They soon turn to making short work of his belt and the fly of his jeans. It’s only when she trails her fingers along the waistband of his boxers does Steve pulls his mouth away, realizing just where they are. She watches him smugly, and there’s a teasing glint in her eye that threatens to bring Steve to his knees. It takes all of his willpower to keep from kissing her again.

“We’re in the hallway.”

“So we are.” She tilts her head to the side, and Steve can already see the makings of a bruise forming on her neck. Normally, she’s not one for visible marks, but he has the feeling that she won’t mind this time. “The bedroom door is right over there.”

Sharon rolls her hips and the movement has Steve seeing stars. They can’t continue out here. Not with others so close nearby. However, Steve also isn’t willing to completely disentangle himself from her embrace. His solution is to hook his arms just below the curve of her (_ absolutely perfect, distracting _) ass, and urge her up. She complies with astounding fluidity, laughing into his shoulder as he carries her to the room, kicking the door closed behind before laying her out on the bed. She is glorious in the moonlight, her hair mussed and lips swollen from his ministrations. She’s also smiling, and that’s what matters most.

This is far from the first time that he’s had her in his bed, but it’s the first time in a long while -- even ignoring the year he’d been dead — that she’s looked so free and happy. Before his death, their last few weeks together had been fraught due to his war with Tony, and their couplings had been hurried affairs. It feels nice to relax and take their time. 

He must spend too long admiring her, because Sharon tilts her head and asks, “What?”

“I’m happy, that’s all.”

“I’m happy too, but I’d be happier if you took your clothes off.” 

“So impatient,” Steve sighs even as he pulls his shirt over his head. She begins to do the same with her own clothing.

“Listen, buddy, it’s been a year-long dry spell for me. I’m surprised you’re not more impatient,” she teases as she wrangles her legs out of her jeans. 

It takes a moment for the implication of her words to sink in. She apparently hadn’t been with anyone in the past year. Steve’s actually disappointed in himself for the surge of satisfaction he feels at that realization. She would have had every right to move on, and he could in no way hold any dalliances against her. Still, he doesn’t want to imagine how gutting it would have felt to come back and realize she had fallen in love with someone else. 

“Call me when you have a decades-long dry spell,” he replies as he steps out of his pants and underwear, and crawls onto the bed next to her. 

“Mmm…I believe I’m the person who ended that one for you.” She gasps when he traces her nipple with an index finger. 

“You were.” For a brief moment, he’s taken back to their first time together years ago. In many ways, it had resembled a usual first encounter with a new person— awkwardly learning one another’s likes and dislikes coupled with the intense desire to please and impress. Still, it had been fun and Steve had enjoyed learning her body. “You’re pretty good at that.”

They don’t talk much after that. They take their time with their hands exploring and mouths tasting. He works his way down her body, stopping at any point of interest to nip and tease. He finds a new scar on her lower body and notes the way her body tenses. But she urges him on, saying “I got into a few scrapes while you were gone. But don’t worry, I lived.” Her smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes, and in any other situation, Steve might press her for more information. But his mind is foggy with need and she is pushing on his shoulders so he lets it go and focuses instead on driving her mad. 

All of his focus turns to her, his head between her legs as he drives her mad with his fingers and tongue. He’s always enjoyed this, the taste of her, the sounds she makes, and how she tightens her legs around his head when she’s close. He chances a look up her body, her chest heaving as a hand rakes through her hair. She looks absolutely debauched, and few things make him feel more powerful than when she’s gasping his name in the throes of an orgasm. 

After he kisses his way back up her body, feeling victorious at the way she practically melts into the bed. “I take it you enjoyed that?” 

She glares at him. “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“I think you’re the one who is going to be full of me.”

“You do know I set you up for that, right?” Sharon rolls them so that she is the one on top. He’s happy this hasn’t changed, their ability to have flawless banter no matter what their doing. In bed or in battle, they’re still able to tease each other. He loves it. 

“I can always count on you to have my six. Anything else he plans to say turns into a garbled moan when she reaches down to take him in hand. 

Now it’s his turn to be the one gripping at the sheets as he arches into her grasp. Her hand moves deliberately, her thumb ghosting over the belled head of his cock. When Steve decides he can’t take it anymore, lest this round be truncated, he tugs her hand away and uses his considerable strength to flip them. He pulls her into a messy kiss as he adjusts his hips between her thighs.

“What if I wanted to be on top?”

“Next time,” he promises, and then he’s pushing into her.

Everything crystallizes to that moment: the wet heat of her body wrapped around him and the sound of skin slapping skin. He twines their fingers above head, and Sharon tightens her thighs on her hips. She peppers kisses along his neck and shoulder, murmuring nonsense phrases. He’s still able to pick out his name and “I love you.” Despite everything, this is what makes him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. 

He loses track of everything but the sounds she makes and the way she writhes under him. He lets go of her hand and lets her slip her finger between them to rub at her clit. He uses this as an opportunity to adjust the angle until his vision blurs. From there, it is a quick tumble towards release. He’s proud that she finishes first, but it’s a close thing.

After, Sharon stumbles out of bed to clean up before returning to his outstretched arms. She is a pleasant weight on his chest, and Steve takes this as an opportunity to tangle his fingers in her hair. 

“I keep waiting for a round of applause,” Sharon muses. He can feel her smile against his skin. “After the way the others were acting, I kept expecting someone to show up and rate us.”

“Now there’s a mental image I didn’t need.” He’s surprised at hell well he can picture Natasha jauntily holding a poster with a hastily drawn on score. 

“Awww, baby, are you afraid they’ll rate you low?”

“Is that an indictment on my performance? Because I seem to recall that you enjoyed yourself.” He tries to maintain the mock offense in his tone, but he’s far too happy and enjoying their silly banter to succeed. 

“No, I’m just implying our friends are assholes. I have no complaints about your performance.” She pats a hand against his ribs. She’s quiet for a moment before saying softly, “I missed this.”

She’s not talking about the sex, but everything else — the familiarity between them, the contentment that comes with being in eachother’s arms, the comfort that comes with being completely and utterly loved. He knows because he feels the same way. 

“Good thing I’m not going anywhere anytime soon,” he says, making a promise he knows he can’t guarantee. What he can promise is that he’ll do everything possible to fight his way back to her, just as he knows she would do the same. 

Sharon shifts and pushes herself upwards so that she is able to meet his gaze. “I’m glad you’re back, Steve.”

Steve kisses her, and he hopes it conveys everything he feels for her, all the emotions he is unable to articulate. When they pull apart, he is overwhelmed by the emotion reflected in her eyes. _ She loves me. _

“I’m glad I’m home.”

_ With you. _


End file.
